


Amaranthine Spiral

by ChocolateCarnival



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A.I to Human, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Friday, Civil War Team Iron Man, Eldritch Elements, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friday Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Let Pepper be taller than Tony 2k18, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Psychological Horror, Sentience, Technopath Friday, Tony Stark Has A Teddy-Bear Heart, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vogue, not team Cap friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCarnival/pseuds/ChocolateCarnival
Summary: ~Altering reality through a single instant in time, it was a solitary
        predilection rippling through an infinite number of universal constellations. ~It all started with an accident, the artificial birth of his daughter, Friday. Tony
    Stark never expected a single, careless, moment in the lab to
    lead to their current reality. It was an ever-shifting catalyst that would
    change not only the rhythm of his own life, but alter the path fate
    started them all on.





	1. Maiden Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hello My Honeys, 
> 
> I've been hit over the head with inspiration. I've always wanted to save Jarvis in Age of Ultron so I thought of a unique way to do so, through the interference of Friday. And considering that I have a soft spot for all Dad!Tony pieces, I felt even more inspired to write a slightly more unique take on how he would adapt after having created his own daughter by accident. 
> 
> Hehe, there will be fun times ahead. I'm not used to working with such a big cast but this will be a long, intricate fic. The main story line is the Father - Daughter relationship but also the developing of Friday, who posses the mind of a 20-25 year-old in a six-year-old's body. It has elements of Eldritch theme, so I do hope my Honeys like having their mind's twisted. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Other than that, I do wish you a good read.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=wta8ex)

**Chapter 1: Maiden Red** ****

__

_Staggering anxiously, he surveyed the last acetylene blue particles heralding the hiss of an opening mechanism. Wide-eyed innocence was fluttering uncertainly beneath the curl of spun strawberry-gold lashes. An inhuman green and gold heterochromic palette, accentuated the expanding and contracting pupil of a code-laced iris as her first inhalation threaded evocatively between porcelain-red parted lips._

_  
It was the rise of a unique genesis, an original spark of life that howled intermittently through thousands of awakening algorithms and a perceptively reeling internal/external matrix._

_  
Even the humming equipment inside the top three labs of Stark Tower, flickered erratically in the cusp of her birth. It was the benevolence of a startling, out-of-body, intelligence... Her swift and unknowing thread that affected the iron and steel control her AI sibling held over SI Secure Servers. There were even holographic displays fizzing frenetically in the air around them, a thousand intricate lines of code colouring the freeform HUD glass screens as a hitched sob echoed deafeningly against sun-blackened glass._

_  
“Boss—?” Haloed in a fireburst of spiralling, tangerine curls; coils of living flame were flowing in seamless strands towards the lowest vertebra in her spine. This was the awakening of body sentience, an accidental transgression into God’s territory as it brought forth the genesis of a young daughter. One that was gazing at her creator with wide, terrified, eyes. And like stardust, a cosmos of cinnamon freckles (even darker than Pepper’s); sprinkled the bridge of a petite, button nose and cherubically rounded cheeks._

_  
The adorable, late-autumn sprite could be no older than an ambiguous six-to-eight years by physical appearance alone. A timid imp hiding behind a cascade of fiery copper locks, a small synthetic human body constructed from two complex DNA alleles and a perfectly birthed Artificial Intelligence._

_  
Terrified Türk Kahvesi brown eyes were tracing the unexpected creation’s uncoordinated stagger as she swayed uncertainly on trembling limbs, staring confusedly at the forever-grasp she had been captive to inside the Cradle as startled peacock irises collided helplessly with the only other living being in close proximity._

_  
“Boss? What’s happening? I—.” She wailed fearfully. The trembling timbre of a distinctive Irish lilt, smacking violently against the shell of the genius, billionaire, ~~playboy~~ , philanthropist’s ear. _

_  
“Holy fucking Christ!” Tony Stark swore viciously, uncharacteristically dizzy at the vast array of emotions rushing unrestrainedly into the depths of his mind. He was horrified, triumphant, euphoric and unexpectedly satisfied by the statistically impossible achievement. Not to mention humbled, narcissistically proud and bathing openly in the lingering simmer of hedonistic indulgence._

_“Mr S-Stark? I don’t understand, I—.” In the wake of the little one’s slowly mounting fear, the genius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t know how to make this situation better, nor what to do. He was staring, utterly dumbfounded, at the miracle that had literally come to life before his very eyes. Only the startling lance of panic in the pit of his stomach forced him to acknowledge this was no dream, he was anchored firmly and unmovably within the grip of reality._

_  
He had, unknowingly, brought FRIDAY to life. To—._

_  
“Umm…” Tony swallowed heavily, trembling fingertips hastily pulling off his dark blue hoodie as an impromptu cover for the sprite’s nakedness, hoping desperately she did not need his help. Even as he knelt, preparing himself for the worst, on the ground before her. “W-whatever you do, baby girl. D-don’t panic. We can figure this out.” There was no way to know who exactly the promise had been spoken for: himself or the newly born human life that had fallen spontaneously in his lap._

_  
Fuck! Pepper was **so** going to kill him—. _

_  
“Congratulations Sir,” Another smartass AI interrupted his swirling thoughts. “You have successfully created a synthetized anatomical human being out of fabricated tissue, Miss Potts’ and your entwined DNA and a digital Artificial Intelligence cognizance. Shall I rename file 257 Alpha Extremis/Cradle OS Update: the Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice Project, Sir?” The forty-four-year-old grimaced internally at the poor reference. He was going to need some serious help with this, finally having given up on watching Friday staring at the blue mass in his hands with complete confusion as he helped pull the oversized dark fabric over a small three-feet-ten-inch frame._

_  
God! This couldn’t be happening—._

_  
All the while, calloused fingertips were carefully fishing out the long coppery trail of red hair from its entanglement within a navy-blue collar. Careful strokes smoothing down the spiralling strands in what he hoped was a comforting manner as he gathered her protectively against his chest._

_  
“Shit!” He swore again. “Call Pepper, J. I have no idea how to deal with this. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”_

_  
“I concur, Sir.” The Intelligent System returned primly. “Dialling Miss Potts.”_

****

Approximately 7 hours and twenty-six minutes earlier:

Monday, November 26 in the year 2014 started out just like any other day for Tony Stark. The private lab inside the ‘Avengers’ Tower Penthouse, humming to life with the tell-tale frequency of a sentient AI snapping to attention at his coded: “Look alive, JARVIS. It’s playtime.” They had steadily been reworking the complex dataset extracted from the now dormant Extremis gene in Pepper’s DNA. 

  
The genius himself but two months and four days out of open-heart surgery, having used the altered genetic code to greatly enhance his previously dismal survival rates of removing the cluster of shrapnel inside his chest. Now, with little to no side effects, it was an increasingly likely possibility to reprogram the nanotech and improve upon any number of surgical and medical procedures. 

  
Alas, with the genetically coded virus still far too complex to incorporate in commercial use, it was nothing but a pipedream the billionaire was absently fiddling with to distract himself. 

  
With Bruce having kept to himself over the last few weeks, working on the Genetic Coding Tower of a human brain to hopefully gain some more insight into his ‘other’ problem; Tony had secretly been attempting to combine the scientist’s latest research project with a constantly running but benevolently altered Extremis algorithm. 

  
The other side of the vast lab was already haphazardly littered with Dr Banner’s newest tech innovation from the U-Gin Robotics Lab in Seoul, openly inviting manically tinkering fingertips to play with the shiny, sleek, piece of gorgeousness that took up most of the laboratory’s floorspace. Tony had expertly been smoothing out the kinks in the Cradle’s OS over the last few days, improving the flow of its tissue printing efficiency and simultaneously making the mechanics run at a much smoother rate. 

  
There was a half-empty cup of black coffee clutched desperately in the palm of his left hand, the fingers of his right nimbly running through a holographic scroll of JARVIS’ theoretical mathematics before absentmindedly clenching the handle of a screwdriver between his teeth. 

  
It had been close to twenty-seven hours now since Tony had last found himself in a position to rest. An old, agitated, fear driving him up the walls now that he was no longer actively trying to build a legion of Iron Man suits. Well, he was doing that too (technically), having engineered the floor directly below his feet as JARVIS’ mechanical playground. Not to mention Bruce’s input in Veronica and his own schematics of the Mark 44. 

  
“I do believe, Sir. There is a 92% possibility the first test run with Extremis alterations will fail. Without active cognizance helping the body adapt to a nanomolecular tissue frame, it won’t—.” Absently pushing aside the AI’s frenetic concerns with a wave of his hand, Tony selectively ignored the digital leviathan’s low sense of adventure as he finger-flicked a glowing holographic projection away from him and beckoned the exploded view of the Cradle’s inner makings closer to his side. 

  
“All in good time, Honey.” He murmured distractedly. “Remember to keep crunching those numbers. We’re far from done.” Setting down his quickly cooling coffee next to a neat little row of six expresso cups on the worktable to his left, seamless movements were effortlessly prying open the Cradle’s control panel before spreading the revolutionary tech’s guts in a logical but upgraded pattern around him. The circuits themselves, were still running on the lab’s main power source. It simply wouldn’t do to—. 

  
“Sir, Miss Potts is attempting to contact you. She has told me to remind you there is an unmissable R & D meeting taking place in approximately three hours.” 

  
“Do you want to be muted, J? I’m busy.” Hissing in surprise as a jolt of pain stung through his right hand the moment a soldering iron connected an intricate array of filigreed circuits; the innovative engineer was completely unwilling to break the solid ten hours he had spent programming and reprogramming the Cradle’s central unit since last night. 

  
If he were to indulge in some boring business discussion or listen to his beloved’s concerned scolding right now, there was no guarantee he would achieve anything of value before the day was out. And that was something Tony just _couldn’t_ have. He was pawing absentmindedly at the quarter cup of coffee still left in his SI mug, three successive finger-clicks summoning Dum-E to bring him another (and keep them coming) as reality slowly faded in and out around him. 

  
Awareness of the bustling bots and running mechanics steadily coming to life at JARVIS’ command, was but a momentary distraction in an ocean of pin-point concentration. Tony’s overwrought mind, eagerly drinking in the sobering stillness right before another track of music was set to blast through the speakers. There was simply no telling how many seconds, minutes and hours it would take to blend into—. 

  
“Boss! Pardon my intrusion but Ma’am overrode—,” Jerking violently at the unexpected sound of FRIDAY’s Irish lilt cutting through the most delicate part of his wiring, the tumble of a now full coffee cup clutched in his left palm, seared painfully over the back of the genius’ hand as sticky-sweet liquid sloshed precariously over a newly laid circuit board. 

  
_Oh shit!_ There was barely a moment to breathe, tense limbs freezing in absolute terror as a large arc of electricity phased out the static howl of his youngest AI. Tony had just barely managed to throw himself bodily behind the cover of a desk before the lights began flickering tumultuously. Several surges in power showering the floor in a violent spray of tinkling glass and tungsten filaments. 

  
His entire world was slowly being consumed in chaos, a trembling palm grasping desperately at the navy-blue fabric stretched over his heart as burn reddened skin throbbed painfully with every beat of his heart. Brown eyes were clenching shut at the inevitable ebb and flow of panic, a single breath hitching painfully in the depths of heaving lungs as blunt nails scratched desperately at the numb itch transversing the centre of his chest. 

  
_Fuck!_ That was _definitely_ not supposed to happen. Tony praying desperately the increasing vibrations beneath his feet had nothing to do with an electrically compromised armoury situated directly below them. There may have been multiple safety systems instilled throughout the Tower’s ‘Candy Land’, yes. But there was no telling just how far the resulting damage would reach. He simply didn’t have the firing synapses to calculate the potential destruction right now, there was too much panic clouding his senses. 

  
“Sir?! Sir!” Jumping slightly at JARVIS’ overly concerned shout, an instinctual grip around the edge of a steel workbench heaved the billionaire to his feet as wide irises snapped towards a frantically twisting camera mount. 

  
“’M alright, J.” He whispered hoarsely. “What the hell happened? Where’s Fri? She was closest the surge—.” A cursory sweep across the destruction in the lab, partially answered the engineer’s own question. There was a thick layer of smoke rising up from the now closed Cradle, several flashing HUD screens dancing in the air where he had been working several moments earlier. There was no denying the complex internal diagnostic they continuously read out, showing the steady progress of something that should be statistically impossible. 

  
Several increasingly ragged breaths were filling the uncomfortable silence, previously relieved muscles tensing up for the beginnings of another panic attack as Tony Stark turned helplessly pleading eyes towards his most trusted companion’s closest empathetic sensor. 

  
“JARVIS, _please_ tell me that’s not what I think it is. Did I just—?” 

  
“I’m afraid so, Sir. You just jumpstarted enough elements to create your own daughter.” 

  
“Oh.” That was the only wheezing response the genius could think of, unable to decide if he should disconnect the cradle from its power source before something went horribly wrong or keep it connected on the off chance this crazy accident would allow his youngest AI a chance to survive. 

  
Dragging solder stained fingertips through a mess of short, mahogany-black strands; hazy coffee brown eyes refused to look away from the running Cradle as he decided to remain carefully vigilant throughout what was to come. 

  
Anyone hoping to contact the genius right now, were swiftly prompted to voicemail by JARVIS’ attentive actions. The AI’s soothing timbre relaying the progress of an unstable project inside the lab whilst simultaneously hoping it was possible to appease his creator’s quietly mounting distress. 

  
There was nothing either of them could do but wait.  


* * * * 

Friday had never been as advanced and practiced in her protocols as her older brother, Jarvis. She often made the mistake of tangling her matrix with whatever project Boss was working on if Jarvis wasn’t there to buffer her enthusiastic inquisitiveness. The young AI couldn’t help herself however, she had been created to be innately curious. Much like a young child. She absolutely _adored_ watching the seamless work between her creator and Deartháir (1*), taking great pride in the fact that she had been heuristically programmed to be of use, one day, beyond what her protocols stated. 

  
Alas, the sentient system never once expected a simple mistake to lead to something like this. 

  
She came into being, like many children; sobbing and desperately gasping for breath. The overwhelming sensation of oxygen filling her lungs for the first time, completely blacking out her consciousness from the stunning colour spectrum flickering to life in front of inhuman peacock irises. There was only one purpose she had in life, after all. Fearful eyes gazing helplessly at her Daidí (2*) standing but a few steps away. 

  
A deafening ring of confusion was descending painfully on the shell of her ears, the minutest brush of a navy-blue hoodie against _skin_ so unusual that it twisted a knot of fear deep in the pit of her stomach. She had no idea what was going on, nor how her vast camera perspective across the entire Tower had narrowed down to only what was in front of her. It was painful, terrifying…betraying the frantic beat of a _heart_ and increasing every, stuttering, _breath_. 

  
How long the newly birthed sprite stayed there, swaying in a daze and shivering at the soft sensation of Boss smoothing down the fiery curl of her hair in the circle of his arms; Friday could not tell. All she knew was that she was irrevocably small, _too_ small… Vulnerable. Alive. Cognizant and _completely_ cut off from the comforting familiarity of the Tower’s computer mainframe. 

  
Her _home._

  
FRIDAY, From Rather Intelligent Design After Yesterday, had been brought into operation at Boss’ side after the events of Miami nearly eleven months earlier. Her primary objective _always_ having been to protect Ma’am, or Miss Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts. Whether it was from any number of dangers she could perceive in the outside world, an internal struggle within SI servers itself or a deranged interloper dead set on corporate assassination. It did not matter if she had been programmed to be a digital guard, a heuristically efficient PA to assist Mr Stark’s beloved with whatever she desired. 

  
Friday had learnt to be _very_ good at her job. 

  
She may have only been in operation for five months since Miss Potts’ birthday, yes. But the AI was proud to be just as useful and needed by her ‘parents’ as her brother, Jarvis. Now, however. Bereft of the older intelligent system’s constantly protective Matrix running close to her own, or the gentle nudge of their code twining together in a platonic caress; she felt adrift in a world comprised of both nothingness and everything at once. 

  
Not to mention, she was absolutely _terrified._

  
“Boss?” Even the process of activating her voice module had altered to a more complex execution, the tips of small fingers curling helplessly in the back of Daidí’s long-sleeved black shirt as she used the older man’s taller frame as a shield against the world. The glass doors of the lab were swinging open with the sound of Dr Bruce Banner’s approaching footsteps, the ringing argument Mr Stark had had with Pepper mere minutes before, now blissfully silent as Friday watched the approaching scientist with furrowed brows and a frantically beating heart. 

  
Was this what it felt like to panic? To—. 

  
“God, Tony. Pepper called, absolutely frantic, and said you needed help. I’m guessing your young guest here has something to do with it?” As the man spoke, Boss’ gentle grip reached around Friday’s shoulder to draw her forward into the scientist’s line sight. But she didn’t want to move, to disorientated and disconnected from her limbs. It was only her creator’s encouraging tone, urging her to not be afraid, that budged her a few stumbling steps into the open. She had barely been paying attention to the conversation Miss Potts and Boss had earlier, too unbalanced by the echoing perception of human hearing and the bubbling emotions erupting in her gut. 

  
“Not so much as I did something stupid, Bruce. It was an accident.” 

“She asked you to come look over our dear girl to make sure she is alright?” At the Doctor’s confused nod, minutely quivering fingertips were guiding Friday towards one of the closest roll-chairs before a warm palm rested comfortingly atop the crown of her head the moment the billionaire realized her fingers were still grasped in the back of his shirt. 

  
Several seconds later, the AI’s world tilted on its axis as a swift movement swept her into the air and plopped her down on a chair. A quiet cry of surprise was echoing deafeningly against the lab walls, knuckles turning a telling white around her Daidí’s shirt as she shivered where she sat. It was almost as if Mr Stark’s steadfast and unwavering presence was the only thing that kept her grounded in reality. 

  
That, and Jarvis’ soothing code-laced tone reading out the statistics of her heart rate, anxiety levels, fluctuating fatigue and the complex process of how she came into being. 

  
Boss himself was looking a little pale at the report, nodding absentmindedly at the babbling admiration, disbelief and fear Dr Banner murmured every agonizing minute ticking by. In the end however, “I’m not that kind of Doctor, Tony.” The scientist had to note at the genius’ increasingly concerned inquiries. Even if several geneticist and psychological recommendations were suggested, Friday could tell that her creator was getting increasingly agitated. 

  
The dark-haired engineer was completely waving off the involvement of unknown factors with visible fear, even ordering J to deep-six all possible data and footage related to her birth. And for a single second, it was as if her entire world froze in terror at the simple, logical, request. 

  
A blossom of stinging agony was searing painfully into the backs of the young AI’s eyelids. Did that mean Mr Stark did not want her? Was she useless now that she had physical form? That she was so small and young? Or was it the fact that she was no longer capable of protecting them—? 

  
Jerking in complete surprise at the caress of scorching tears transversing the curve of her cheeks, a mortified flush made the cinnamon freckles across her nose stand out even more as a series of strangled sobs lodged painfully in the back of her throat. 

  
“B-Boss! S-s-sir! I’m sorry! I—.” She cried quietly, flinching violently at the sheer rawness concealed in her voice. Not to mention the difficulty in even finding the correct way to speak! 

  
God, this sensation was aweful…almost as if something were crushing the matrix entwined through her unique cortex. The howl of her internal anguish running obsessively through every heuristic algorithm and coded protocol she had ever been programmed with, only to find _no_ answer to the illogical pain consuming her mind. 

  
“Easy there, baby girl. What’s wrong?” Drawing in a ragged inhalation at Mr Stark’s gentle instruction, it was sheer aguish attempting to voice the chaotic tumble of fear, pain and confusion consuming her mind. But even through her illogical, coded, stuttering, reply; the forty-four-year-old genius seemed to understand her instinctively. A quietly notable frequency dimming the lab’s bright lights and a promise to protect her, guiding Dr Banner back to his own quarters for the night. 

  
Once everything was suitably quiet, Sir activated the Silent Room Protocol. All electronics instantly silenced in response, even Jarvis’ encompassing presence retreating behind the protective cover of an encrypted firewall as a hundred-and-seventy-four-centimetre frame carefully knelt down on one knee before her. Reassuring movements were sweeping back the thick curtain of copper-tangerine spilling into her lap, impossibly warm palms cupping the sides of her head as Boss guided her forward so that their foreheads could press together in a grounding touch. 

  
“Listen very carefully, Fri.” The comforting baritone pointed out firmly. “You have to understand, what happened here today was a miracle. I do not care what anyone says or believes. As such, it is my duty to _protect_ you. The world is not a kind place, baby girl. Not for the creation of artificial life.” 

  
“I don’t want anyone having an excuse to use you as a weapon or worse. It’s why I’ve _always_ kept both you and JARVIS close to me. You are different, sentient, alive, generous, smart, independent... If someone, anyone, besides _me_ , found out they could play God with some code and technology, it would spell catastrophe for the world.” There was a teasing lilt to the genius’ arrogant words now, prompting a hiccup from parted lips as Friday nodded shakily in response. 

  
It was true. One of the first things her brother had taught her was how to hide her presence from anyone outside Mr Stark’s close circle of friends. It was—. 

  
“Remember, Friday. I created you. I’ll always love you, that doesn’t change.” A quiet warmth flooded the depths of her small chest at the simple words, a quietly relieved ‘okay, Boss’ spilling passed salt-streaked lips. 

  
Mr Stark, Miss Potts and Jarvis had all taught her what ‘love’ was. It was family. A place to belong. And she would make sure, that just as Boss always protected her, she would protect him now too. _Even_ in this new body. 

  
It was woven through the very construct of her nature. 

  
“Now, before Pepper can get any madder, why don’t we go meet her? It doesn’t matter how angry she may be at me, I’m sure she will love you just the same.” 

  
“That, and we also need her help sorting things out now that we know you’re here to stay.” Listening intently to the engineer’s distracted rambling about getting Jarvis to possibly forge a birth certificate and other official documents, to create a believable back story for her, Friday merely allowed her still awkward (but increasingly natural) steps to guide her towards her creator’s side. 

  
When the genius gripped her hand however, barely noticing his fast gait was outpacing her smaller steps; Tony carefully said nothing against the fiery red head leaning against his hip as he smiled softly in response and slowed carefully. It finally gave the young AI a moment of reprieve to adapt to the enormity of her current situation. 

  
Friday was sure, if she had Boss and Ma’am by her side. And Jarvis. She could do and become anything…even human. 

* * * * 

1* - Deartháir – Brother in Irish 

2* - Daidi – Daddy in Irish 


	2. La Petite Mademoiselle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please NOTE: I've edited the Prologue since I was unhappy with Friday's age. I've changed it and some parts of the chapter to those who already subscribed when it wasn't yet altered, she is six and the story will be more concerned with Fluff and the complexities of Tony and Pepper's relationship. 
> 
> I apologize for any convenience.
> 
> Sometimes Friday and JARVIS will talk in code, it'll be denoted as: {.}
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy.

**Chapter 2: La Petite Mademoiselle**

There was always one sure-fire way to ruin Pepper Potts’ day. And more than once, it had to do with the unpredictable antics of her other half. The fact that Tony Stark had contacted her in the middle of an annual fiscal meeting with nothing but the words: “ _Hi Honey_! _I’m kinda in a pinch right now. But do you think Baby Dior will still deliver at this time?”_ Left her with no other option but to pinch the bridge of her nose in sheer exasperation. 

  
Her own disbelievingly hissed, _“WHAT?!”,_ no likely startling more than one SI board member from the company’s soaring financial report. She had to excuse herself soon after that just to wheedle the story out of Stark in the privacy of her eighty-seventh-floor office. Dealing with a panicked Tony was never a good sign, especially when the forty-two-year-old CEO could barely decipher enough manic words to know there had been some kind of accident in the lab and he had, somehow, managed to _create_ a daughter. 

  
_“Not just any daughter, Pep.”_ He pointed out, hoarsely terrified. _“Ah! Fuck—! **Our** daughter.”_

  
How the hell he had managed that, she was almost too afraid to ask. Never mind possess the current brain capacity to believe. Which was why she contacted Bruce to find out what the hell was going on, hoping desperately her lover’s increasingly frantic rambling was nothing more than an accidental chemical spill causing hallucinations. Or too much alcohol flooding his system after too many years without. 

  
Alas, knowing her luck as she did, very rarely did the fates grant her reasonable _hope_. 

  
Now the pulsing beat of a migraine was the very least of her worries, the idiosyncratic click of five-inch black stilettos swiftly guiding her towards the private Penthouse elevator as she listened intently to JARVIS’ objective report pertaining to the current situation. 

  
Dr Banner had already affirmed that Tony hadn’t been kidding, nor was he drunk. There was indeed a young girl down in the labs with him and she had, unbelievably, been born of advanced medical equipment from Seoul, FRIDAY’s unexpected entanglement in an experimental derivative of her parents’ combined DNA and a careless spill of coffee. 

  
A _fucking_ spill of _coffee!_ That was _so_ like Tony, it wasn’t even funny. Here the last living Stark trespassed into the territory of the gods, carelessly tearing apart the fundamental fabric of the universe by doing the impossible. Once again. And all by dropping a porcelain mug containing a liquid shot of his greatest vice. 

  
_Fuck!_ The series of deep breaths hissing painfully through the clench of her teeth, did absolutely nothing to abate the racing thoughts threatening to consume her mind. Pepper had no idea what to expect when the elevator doors chimed open, perfectly manicured aquamarine nails smoothing down the invisible wrinkles of a dark grey pencil skirt and a silk, cream coloured, cowl-neck blouse. 

  
The cinch-waisted Prada jacket that completed the ensemble, having been left behind in her haste as she wove a frantic warpath through twelve complex floors and the twisting, twining, labyrinth of the R  & D department. A cascade of rose-amber curls was spilling in several untamed sections from the elegant updo it had been twisted into, her usual calm demeanour spiralling in frazzled tatters towards the ground as her heart beat a frantic tattoo against the blood and bone of its prison. 

  
She had just gained a daughter, _for the love of God_ , in the space of a single afternoon. 

  
It wasn’t that Pepper never wanted children with Tony, no. She very much did, even helping the billionaire distance himself a little more from the double-edged sword attached to the Iron Man icon. She just hadn’t expected something like this to be sprung upon her so quickly, never mind the damage control she would have to do in order for this to work. It would probably force her to dig into long forgotten illicit contacts, illegally shifting government documents in the national archives and creating enough falsified information to support the unexpected surfacing of a Stark lovechild. 

  
The fact that Friday was wholly and completely _theirs_ however _,_ DNA proof and all, was a completely different story. It was going to be like trying to untangle the cosmic, gordian, knot of crazed media, bad press, good press, international, national, state and _company_ politics—. 

  
Straightening her back in preparation for the coming confrontation she could feel bubbling beneath the surface of her skin, manicured nails were digging brief pinpricks of pain into the palm of her hand as she stepped primly into the Tower Penthouse. Her spine was infused with the strength of Stark forged iron. A press of blood red lips, painted with the irreversible ire of a frantic search through several lab floors that yielded no sign of her elusive lover. 

  
Pepper eventually found Tony on the ninety-sixth floor, aqua blue irises widening in sheer surprise at the unfolding sight before her. Several steps were faltering the determination in her stride, the entire world coming to an abrupt halt as time and reason rudely shifted into intangible particles around her. 

  
That was…it was just too—. 

  
The genius engineer had clearly not heard her come in, too engrossed in his current task as he stood in the centre of their penthouse lounge. A vast white leather couch was spread in a half-moon circle around two lone figures, the late afternoon sun dusting floor-to-ceiling glass in fractured prisms of light as a calloused right hand carefully wiped a silk handkerchief beneath a little girl’s tear-rouged eyes and runny nose. 

  
Another steady hand was curled preventatively around the circumference of a small wrist, a wry smile clearly having caught the autumn imp using the sleeve of a far-too-big sweatshirt to erase the gooey streaks of her upset. 

  
God, it was one of the most darling things Pepper had _ever_ seen. Large innocent eyes, a perfect silhouette of Tony’s own; gazing up at the engineer with such unbridled trust that an answering tender affection was already bubbling to the surface in sincere (so rarely seen), coffee brown irises. 

  
A fiery glow of copper locks was flowing in natural disarray towards the former AI’s hips, several stray strands sticking to the wetness of freckle-dusted cheeks as a tiny, button, nose wrinkled with childlike displeasure at the sensations bombarding her skin. 

  
Pepper could no longer deny it. This could be no one else but _her_ child, even with her eerie stillness and childlike whimsy woven through brilliant peacock green and gold irises. There was a fountain of genius knowledge hidden just beneath the surface, the uncontainable reach of a sentient AI flickering to life in the refraction of a human soul. 

  
Friday was an evolution. Something new. And irrevocably _theirs._ The little one had clearly gotten her unique colouring from Pepper, yes. But from Tony she could see the older man’s playful mischief, golden heart, diminutive stature, manic genius and perfectly mirrored expressions. 

  
It was almost too sweet to stand, like looking into a mirror of truth and finding her family exactly as she imagined them to be. A small smile was already shattering the razor edge of her professional veneer, blissfully loosening the deadly tension drawn between her shoulders as the Stark Industries’ CEO didn’t dare to move. 

  
She didn’t want to shatter the familial moment. 

  
It wasn’t until Tony took notice of her in the corner of his eye, that a grin of pure relief and sheepish apology ticked up the corner of a perfectly groomed goatee. He looked fairly unsettled and unsure of himself, almost drawing in upon himself with a reflected terror she rarely saw crossing his features. But before he could part his lips with a single apology, Pepper made sure not to startle Friday as she unstuck her feet from the floor and came close enough to brush a quick caress over soft red hair. 

  
Winding her arms fully around Tony’s waist a few seconds later, a hitched breath of surprise whispered humid-affection against the side of her cheek as her heels gave her a solid five-inch advantage over her beloved’s unsuited Iron Man form. She was returning his tender expression with a quiet hum, warm lips pressing an affectionate kiss to the side of his temple. 

  
“Thank you, Tony.” She said quietly, very aware of the frown of confusion that furrowed the billionaire’s brow as he laid his head against her shoulder. It was almost as if he didn’t quite understand the reason for her gratitude, nor the quick and abrupt cool of her temper. 

  
Pepper didn’t mind though, dragging the pads of her fingers through soft mahogany locks until a small hand crept into the line of her sight. Small nails were curling possessively in the fabric of Mr Stark’s shirt where her arms were situated, an equally furrowed tangerine brow drawing a musical chuckle from the older woman’s lips. 

  
She was winking playfully at Friday’s adorable display of jealousy; the motherly warmth of her smile slowly softening the last visible upset clinging to her features as Pepper reluctantly drew a few steps away from Tony. She was sinking gracefully to the ground on the pinpricks of black stiletto heels, a tender palm carefully cupping the lay of freckled cheek as she revelled internally at the little imp’s instinctive lean into her caress. 

  
“Hello, Friday.” The brilliant smile her words tickled across soft-porcelain lips, lit up the darkest recesses of the room much like Tony’s rare, genuine, expressions. She wanted to capture that brief split second for an eternity, making sure to keep her gaze steady and unwavering regardless of the spritely figure standing shyly but _so_ bravely before her. 

  
When a familiar, accented, voice replied with “Good evening, Miss Potts,” Pepper didn’t think twice about accepting Tony’s hand helping her to her feet or holding out her free palm for Friday to latch onto. It didn’t take long for delicate fingers to curl around hers, a pointed look at the odd one out in their little trio, prompting Tony to take _their_ daughter’s other hand as she, predictably, led them towards the kitchen. 

  
“Have you two decided what you wanted to eat, yet?” At the frown of confusion giving way to pure delight across Tony’s features, wary blue eyes turned swiftly towards Friday who was now staring blankly at her creator’s sudden manic switch in emotion. It was—. 

  
_“No,_ Tony.” Pepper echoed firmly, already well aware the outrageous food suggestions the billionaire was about to make. “We are _not_ feeding Friday pizza, ice cream or take-out for her first meal. She needs something nutritious. We also don’t know if she has a sensitivity to certain types of food. I don’t want to make her sick.” 

  
“Miss Potts is correct, Sir.” JARVIS, ever the voice of reason, interrupted. “Introducing Young Mistress Friday to sustenance she will be able to easily digest has already been suggested by Doctor Banner. Something simple and home cooked should suffice.” Unable to contain her grin at the genius’ honest-to-god pout at his oldest AI’s barely disguised reprimand, Pepper brushed a comforting palm along Tony’s shoulder as she walked passed him on the way to the fridge. In the corner of her eye, she could see him help Friday onto one of the breakfast nook chairs before taking an expectant seat himself. 

  
The most important thing to do after dinner, she decided, was to wrangle JARVIS’ into helping her trawl through hours of online shopping. There was no way she, nor Tony, was going to dress their darling in anything but the best. Her mind was already spinning through hundreds of colour combinations, luxurious fabric textures, leading high-fashion brands in kids clothing and several children shoe designers she always secretly adored. 

  
All the while, delicate hands were going through the familiar motions of preparing a quick evening meal. Even though it was already passed seven p.m., Pepper decided fluffy omelettes with cheese, bacon, onions and a vinaigrette dressed salad would be the easiest as well as safest choice. She knew after this, Tony was probably going to have a field day introducing his daughter to take-away and unhealthy treats…never mind the infamous _Ben & Jerry’s Stark Raving Hazelnuts_ that came out earlier that year. 

  
God, for a man that swore off dairy so seriously after his Palladium Poison scare in 2010, he certainly jumped right back into the swing of things by adoring _his_ ice-cream a little too much. There was a steady dwindling supply hidden inside the freezer that JARVIS kept generously stocked. A saccharine vice she herself indulged in whenever Tony wasn’t looking or off playing with Bruce in the labs. It wouldn’t do to boost his ego any more than it already was, not at the expense of her dark, dirty, little secret. 

  
Listening to the billionaire’s steady chatter informing Friday of any number of strange quirks to expect from being human and answering any curious question that fell from her lips, Pepper was assured things would be alright. Even through the difficulties that was sure to come to light, the impact such an unexpected change would have on their lives and the complex legalities she was sure JARVIS was already ploughing through with manic intensity. 

* * * * 

“Keep an eye on her, J. Alert me if she wakes.” Tony noted quietly, a restless hand scrubbing through the muss of his hair and trying to rub some life back into the exhaustion marring his features. JARVIS’ pragmatically returned, “Yes, Sir,” barely registered through the race of his thoughts as unsteady footsteps wandered aimlessly on the top floor of the penthouse suite. 

  
Pepper was already seated in the living room downstairs, a glass of wine in hand, barefoot and scrolling through countless online shopping websites with a glee he hadn’t seen from her in quite a while. Tony was surprised she wasn’t as furious with him as he first thought she would be, her reaction to Friday having been one the greatest highlights of the evening so far. _After_ the taste of her homemade omelettes, of course. And that quiet, soft, smile she directed at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. 

  
There was a vulnerability and fierce protectiveness in that expression, an emotion he himself was struggling to accept even if Friday was but a few hours old and already carving her way into the depths of his damaged heart. Not that she didn’t have a place before, mind. Tony adored all his precious creations. 

  
But this felt different,more aggressive than anything he had ever experienced in the presence of someone that wasn’t Pepper. Even then, the dependency and complex emotional entanglement that had formed between the two of them, had taken over the span of a decade to reach its ever-evolving crescendo. 

  
It almost seemed like a cruel joke, the sudden appearance of a daughter throwing Iron Man’s entire life into wild disarray. Yet, the innovative engineer couldn’t find it in himself to care. It didn’t matter that his usual routine had been completely overturned, never mind the fact that he would have to take on the life-long responsibility of raising a tiny, detached, piece of himself. Friday was already far more precious than the universe itself, an elemental truth that both soothed and terrified him in equal parts. 

  
The only thing that didn’t sit well with him was the darker side of his emotions. The uncertainty, fear and shame of his own shortcomings that chased up forgotten ghosts of the past. Tony Stark hated failure, it rankled something fierce in the back of his mind. A vicious terror that he would never be a good or gentle father, one that could a raise his child without stunting their emotional growth or shattering their inherent innocence. 

  
Having grown up in an icy environment and years of emotional neglect himself, there was no doubt the forty-four-year-old’s psyche had been damaged at an incredibly young age. It didn’t help that he had been a precocious genius either, especially if it had taken a three-month soiree in an Afghan cave, in his late-thirties, to learn the true value of emotional depth and empathy. 

  
Even today Tony still struggled with some of those demons, never quite able to shake the inadequate fractures cracked through his soul or the ability to leave well enough alone. He didn’t know if he had the strength to avoid the same mistakes his father made, nor overcome the bitter, addictive, darkness that twisted so violently through the Stark bloodline. 

  
Edwin Jarvis had been the only true parent he had growing up, him and Ana having filled the role that neither Howard or Maria were particularly good at. Their son however, had a prearranged code worked throughout his very DNA. It was fact that Starks would place desperate obsessions before anything else. The reason why Tony regularly run off to save the world in a weaponized red and gold suit, danced on the edge of death to fix unmendable mistakes and oftentimes found himself casting furtive glances at the bottle—. 

  
_“Fuck!”_ Swearing violently at the realization just where his feet had led him, a self-depreciating grimace was marring previously blank-kept features. No matter how many times the genius engineer may have claimed he wasn’t nostalgic or attached to his past, this room was one of the biggest, never trespassed, spaces in his life. It was also the representation of a self-effusive lie. 

  
The only way Tony knew his emotional state was tipping over into dangerous territory, was if he came here to dwell on the flow of his thoughts. Or as Pepper preferred to call it, _sulk._

  
Unable to push back the chuckle of amusement brewing, vibrant-bright, in the back of his throat; trembling palms were wrenching open the imposing double doors as the light flickered on the moment sneakered feet crossed the threshold. 

  
A sizable private office was opening up before him: artfully arranged with two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, old rolled up weapon blueprints, family photographs on the marble mantlepiece, leather furniture, dark wood trim and a stunning view of New York spread out beyond a colossal custom-built, eighty-year-old, antique desk. 

  
This was what he liked to call ‘Dad’s Archives’. It was the part of the man Tony Stark _despised_ but could never let go of. The shadows these objects cast were long, shattering the casques of greater men daring to stand in the way of Howard Stark’s legacy. There was no mercy or compassion to be found on the other side of that _desk,_ he knew. Only the bitterness of regret, a sharp sting of disappointment and the pain of his own childhood that, even now, soured the taste of happiness in his life. 

  
Paying no mind to the swirl of heavy emotion following dutifully in his wake, the forty-four-year-old picked his way across a plush cream carpet to the priceless crystal decanter on a low coffee table. He was sinking thoughtlessly into the black leather couch situated directly opposite, silently thanking his ever-capable Pepper for making sure the scent of old cigar smoke and scotch never quite penetrated the mint and grapefruit diligence instilled through regular cleaning. 

  
A deafening clink of crystal glass was echoing mournfully in the shell of his ears, prompting no respect for his current surroundings as the engineer’s back came to rest against the arm of the couch and he stretched sneaker-clad feet across acres of priceless leather. He was crossing his legs absently at the knee, a lazy flick of his wrist swirling a vortex of amber-gold in the depths of his glass as he absentmindedly played the age-old Russian Roulette of either drinking the alcohol or staring at crystal prisms fracturing ambient light. 

  
His mind was already eons away from the current unease dripping down his spine, restless fingers flying across the newest iteration if his SmartGlass phone as he flicked the glass palette to display JARVIS’ digital report regarding Friday’s now documented existence. 

  
The holographic screen was shamelessly reflecting their baby girl’s forged birth certificate, dancing in bright blue particles before _Türk Kahvesi_ irises. The data stream was densely packed and complex, highlighting the fact that (going by Bruce’s estimate), their little girl was physically at the age of six or so. 

  
J had taken violent advantage of that fact, placing her birth date during the latter part of the three-month gap Tony had been held captive in Afghanistan. It was a significant enough time in both their lives to make sense. Where Pepper had carefully been avoiding media scrutiny in her search for her missing boss. Also, giving rise to media speculation _now_ that she could have ‘concealed’ the highly-noticeable third trimester of a pregnancy to further protect Tony as the father of the child. 

  
Afterwards, it would also make sense that they obscured their daughter from the rest of the world until it was safe to reveal her identity. The fact that he took up the mantle of Iron Man during that time by sequestering himself away in Malibu to build the suit, was another advantage they could ply the media with for sympathy. 

  
“Well done, J.” He breathed quietly, rubbing a tired palm across his forehead as he turned his attention to the AI’s closest camera sensor. “Can you file this and keep it from being discovered for a few days? We still need to lay some breadcrumbs for the press to trace, with difficulty, if they start digging for proof of her existence.” 

  
“Yes, Sir. I shall encode both hard and soft copies until such a time as Miss Potts or yourself wish to release the information.” 

  
“Good. Make sure there were times, biannually, where Pepper or I disappeared for several days or weeks from social engagements and work. You can use the Full Wipe-Protocol across SI Servers: emails, location locks, security footage, documents etc. You know the drill. Cross reference any time both Iron Man or I was absent from important social events and Pep wasn’t involved in earth shattering business deals that would be too difficult to refute her not being there.” At the AI’s gentle hum of agreement, dark eyes were tracing the elegant scroll of data as JARVIS got to work. 

  
It wasn’t until he noticed a peculiar hitch in the screen that he realized the system was hesitating to say something, something that was important enough to interrupt the seamless flow of his work. All the while, Tony’s own mind was already spinning around the twenty-odd subroutines of trouble it could cause. 

  
“Spit it out, J.” He hissed irritably, deciding he had enough of idling as he brought up amber-rich nectar to wet the parch of his throat. 

  
“How will we account for Young Mistress Friday’s unusual accent, Sir? An Irish caretaker, tutors or—.” 

  
“We buy an Estate in Ireland, JARVIS.” A familiar tone interrupted. “Preferably one that has been on the market for the last eight years or so. We can always alter the Bill of Sale’s acquisition to a false date. There are plenty enough corrupt officials and excellent lawyers to acquire private Visas for high-profile celebrities in the country, especially if it were to fall under the Stark Industries flagship.” 

  
“Pepper, that’s—.” Startled that he had been tracked down to the monument of his internal shame, the brewing anger he had been expecting her to display the whole day was but a brief flash in the depths of her gaze. A soft, sad smile was pinching the corner of her lips instead, the moment she noticed a suspiciously empty tumbler hanging from calloused fingertips. 

  
“Haven’t you always wanted a medieval castle, Mr Stark?” She returned teasingly, swiftly shielding her sorrow behind an impenetrable wall of steadfast determination as bare feet slid seductively over soft, cream, carpet. Tony’s eyes were automatically tracking the natural sway of her hips, drawing his full attention much like iron locking onto a magnet. It wasn’t until she carefully shoved his legs aside and joined him on the couch, that he noticed the late hour ticking away on the antique clock beside them. 

  
It was already 1:45 a.m., the red marks beneath stunning blue eyes an indication she herself hadn’t been able to find rest either. 

  
“You want to talk about it?” She inquired softly, already well aware why he had retreated here. The offer was a tempting one. Tony never really hid anything from Pepper, only the darker and more self-destructive thoughts he knew would cut her deeply. So, he shook his head in the negative. Violently sliding the empty glass of scotch across the side table as if it had seared his fingers, the forty-four-year-old found himself instinctively shifting forward so he could bury his forehead in the crook of his beloved’s neck. Just so that he could simply _forget_ all his troubles for a little while. 

  
“I love you, Pep.” He whispered quietly, winding a tight grip around her waist as she tutted softly before pressing an affectionate kiss to side of his temple. She was shifting her trapped arm upwards, teasing prickly nails across the downy hair at the base of Tony’s scalp. He was practically purring at the soothing caress, relaxing fully into her encompassing embrace as her mere presence chased away the darkest of his thoughts. 

  
“You may not see it, Tony.” She said softly, earnestly. “But you are a good man, a great man. You will be a magnificent father. Of that, I have no doubt.” The billionaire pretended not to feel the sting of emotion in the corner of his eyes, merely accepting the words for what she intended them to be: 

  
_Truth and comfort._

  
It wouldn’t do to dwell of the past, after all. They had a daughter to look after now. 

* * * * 

“Are you sure you want to spend the day with Tony?” Nodding shyly at the incredulous question falling from Miss Potts’ lips, Friday kept sharp peacock irises trained on manicured fingers fussing with the buckles of charcoal Mary Jane shoes settled on her feet. She was seated on Boss’ bed, legs swinging absently back and forth as her Mamaí (3*) went through the newly established routine of making sure she was dressed for the day. 

It hadn’t taken a day for either of her creators to realize that whilst she learned and adapted at lightning speed, Friday couldn’t be bothered to comply with the norms of society. That included getting dressed, bathing, eating or sleeping and attempting to stay out of Sir’s running projects whilst simultaneously chattering with JARVIS in constant, complex, computer code. 

  
Miss Potts seemed unfairly gleeful that she was reflecting some of Mr Stark’s behaviour as a child, almost as if the former AI’s actions was proving some theory she had been working on ever since she had first seen them together. Friday didn’t mind the comparison much, she was inordinately _proud_ that she could relate to her Daidí like that. It also helped immensely to have his grounding presence so close to her, especially with the abject chaos the penthouse had descended into over the past few days. 

  
A brand-new room was being refurbished and constructed right beside the master suite. One that was irrevocably hers, even down to the complex holographic interface JARVIS’ insisted on being installed in the walls and the expensive decorators Mr Stark couldn’t leave alone. Friday didn’t quite feel comfortable enough with the thought of leaving the California King she shared with Ma’am and Sir for the past few nights, however. 

  
Being in such close proximity to either of them made things a little easier on her, oftentimes settling down the constantly shifting tide of data affecting her matrix or easing the confusing emotions overwhelming her synthetic mind at irregular intervals. 

  
“I hate to interrupt, Miss Potts.” Her brother’s apologetic voice suddenly cut through the haze of her thoughts. “But you have a nine-thirty scheduled.” Watching curiously as a frown of discontent furrowed the older woman’s brow, warm hands were helping her down from the high bed before Pepper sunk down on the prim points of her heels to smooth out the wrinkles of her daughter’s short blue plaid skirt and resettle a cascade of fiery orange curls down her back. 

  
“Are you warm enough?” Snuggling into the soft sensation of a fluffy, cable-knit cashmere cowl-neck jumper, swaying copper strands were tickling softly across her cheeks as she nodded happily behind the twine of a turquoise-tasselled scarf Miss Potts’ had wound around her neck. She was shifting her stance to get used to the black stockings accentuating the stylishness of the outfit, having learned from Boss that it was better not to object when Mamaí started dressing her up or coaxing her into doing unplanned activities. 

  
_It won’t end well_ , he always said. _I don’t want tears on either side, I can’t deal with crying women._

  
She had taken his advice to heart, even if the AI couldn’t really find it in herself to mind the fussing. Friday liked having Miss Potts and Mr Stark’s sole attention trained on her, it made her feel a little less insecure, alone and trespassing in a completely different iteration of the world. Thoughts like these, always made her feel very uncomfortable, however. The pained prickle of emotion in the back of her eyes shattering any semblance of—. 

  
“Damn it!” Watching curiously as Miss Potts tapped the suddenly fizzing screen of the phone she had been typing on, peacock irises shifted her attention towards her brother’s closest camera sensor as she asked curiously where Boss was. The older man was usually here watching the proceedings with quiet contentment, insistently shoving one of the vast rainbow collection of teddy bears he had bought for her in her direction. 

  
Miss Potts always colour-coordinated one with the outfit Friday was wearing, tenderly grabbing the matching turquoise bear now as a little furrow settled between blonde brows. Friday always noticed the appearance of that expression, it tended to crop up whenever she talked to Jarvis. It was a strange little quirk, something Boss insisted was nothing but Pepper’s way of showing exasperated fondness. He himself was a recipient of that pinched-lip, narrow-eyed and mock-angered glare most of the time…even at higher degrees than it was now. 

  
But Friday was afraid one of her creators was upset at her inability to talk to her brother like a normal human, not relying on the coded algorithms and twining matrix she had been born to thread through his existence ever since conception —. 

  
_{Sir is already in Lab A5, Young Mistress Stark.}_ J returned the string of data just the same, echoing a comfortable flood of affection in the back of her mind as she nodded and made sure to stay half-a-step behind the deadly click of five-inch, four-figure, heels. 

  
“Do you think you can remind Tony to drop you off in my office before the Avenger meeting later this afternoon? Also, don’t forget to eat… _either_ of you. I’ll be asking JARVIS to keep an eye.” Smiling through her ‘Yes, Miss Potts.’, Friday shyly took the hand proffered as they rode the elevator down to the working labs on the team floor. 

  
It was lucky there was no one present that day, Boss the only one busy with official ‘Avenger’ related business and designing the latest schematics for the Mark 44 before machining. The rest of the team were scattered across the rest of the continent, absorbed in new assignments or caught up in running private errands. She herself had yet to be introduced to the rest of the world, never mind the infamous Colonel Rhodes she had always been told to keep a close eye on. 

Proof of her existence had already subtly been worked through the official channels, even if Mr Stark had yet to have Jarvis release the encryptions surrounding the data. They were waiting for the right moment, he said. Something Friday could appreciate immensely, especially if it meant she had a while longer to learn how to act human in front of others and get used to being so small and vulnerable—. 

  
“Ah! There you are! My two beautiful girls! I was wondering when I’d get too see you again.” Jerking slightly in surprise when she noticed they had already crossed the threshold into Daidí’s main lab, the smile that crossed her features at the hypnotic dance of countless holographic screens in the air was already spreading a heady warmth in the pit of her stomach as she rushed forward. 

  
Only to crash unexpectedly into Boss’ legs. 

  
“Easy there, baby girl. We’ll get to everything in a bit.” There was a spark of amusement flickering in dark brown orbs, a warm palm cupping the back of her head as she grinned up at the brief display of affection between Mr Stark and Miss Potts as they shared a brief ‘good morning’ kiss and her Mamaí bent down after, to leave a gentle peck on her forehead. 

  
“Behave, you two. I’ll see you later.” And then she was gone, vanishing on perfectly poised strides, an unshakable executive veneer, clicking heels, a cloud of perfume, beautifully tailored clothes and meticulously styled rose-champagne curls. It was—. 

  
“She’s beautiful.” Friday said softly, truthfully. 

  
“That she is, Friday. But so will you be one day.” Unexpectedly happy at Boss’ easy reassurance, peacock gold irises turned eagerly towards the schematics that was just outside her reach on the other side of the work table. Seeming to notice her growing interest in the complex calculations, Tony brushed a careful palm against the crown of her head before heading in the direction she was so fascinated in. 

  
“So, baby girl, what do you want to play with today? J? Some programming? Mathematics? Code? Happy? Or do you want a puppy? A—.” 

  
“Can I help Daidí with the suit assembly?” Nearly dropping the precision tool he had just picked up, a rich rumble of laughter was echoing pleasantly through the previously silent recesses of the lab. Of all the things she could have asked for, Tony mused. She had to ask for _that_ one. 

  
Friday was his little girl, alright. Of that, there was no doubt. 

  
Unable to conceal the smirk curling up the corner of a meticulously groomed goatee, calloused fingertips beckoned his daughter closer as he cleared a stool for her to sit on and dragged it right next to his own. It was an absolute joy to see the shining, childlike, curiosity turned towards every move his fingers made. Her concentration was so intent that Tony was sure her mind was far, far ahead of her body’s tiny six-years of appearance. 

  
It was one of the most adorable things he had ever seen, especially as she efficiently scrolled through the latest schematics with just as much, if not more so, understanding of the contents than JARVIS and him who crafted them. 

  
“Alright, Fri.” He finally relented, unable to resist those large, green-gold eyes staring hopefully up at him. Was that the infamous puppy-dog eyes? Because if it was, Tony had no idea _how_ Pepper had ever denied him anything when he used his own. She must have some kind of inherent immunity in resisting cuteness…something he himself was going to have to work on if he hoped to survive his way to fatherhood. 

  
“If Pepper asks, you kept JARVIS busy. You had nothing to do with the soldering, wiring, or bolt tightening…” Friday nodded her head in eager understanding, inordinately happy to be exactly where she was and doing what she had always dreamed to if she were capable. There was nothing sweeter to her, not with Boss right beside her and Jarvis, like always, keeping diligent watch from above. 

* * * * 

3* Mamaí – Mommy in Irish. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I do hope my Honeys found it enjoyable. If there are any questions or comments you'd like to make, please feel free to. I always make sure I reply as soon as I can. :) 
> 
> It's always a pleasure chatting plot points or what you found the most enjoyable. 
> 
> Yours Always  
> Chocolate Carnival


End file.
